


The Perfect Couple

by skyperson9



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyperson9/pseuds/skyperson9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes loved Molly Hooper. Everyone knew that apart from Sherlock and Molly. A Sherlolly story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mary Morstan was feeling like the happiest woman on the planet. Though most of it could be due to the pregnancy hormones, it was also because her lovely husband was the preparing her breakfast while she lay contently on the couch watching her favorite soap.

_Ring!_

Her phone began to ring and she spent a good two seconds contemplating whether it was worth the effort to reach across the coffee table. Luckily John, the ever pampering husband came to her rescue. He rushed from the kitchen, a boiled potato in one hand and flour all over this clothes, knowing full well that Mary wasn't even going to attempt to answer the phone. He tossed the phone to her with a dramatic sigh. She giggled at him and blew kisses in his direction, while he rolled his eyes and rushed back into the kitchen a smirk on his face.

She smiled widely at the display.

"Hello Molly!"

"Hi! Mary. Thank God! I thought you would just let it ring like the other million times." Molly sounded really relieved on the other end.

"You are in luck honey, John's at home!" Mary said with a laugh.

Molly laughed along with her. They had built a quick friendship right when John and Mary had been dating. From then on they had become very close to each other. Mary didn't mind the morbid sense of humor Molly had, and if you get past that Molly was really sweet and kind.

"Ok, tell me what flavor biscuits you like, cinnamon or orange? I thought I'd bake something, today being my day off."

"Molly you don't have to. John's already cooking."

"It's not for you darling, I'm baking for my god daughter. Now tell me the flavor, I'm at the store."

Mary smiled at the way her friend cared about her daughter. Elizabeth was one lucky girl.

"Fine. I like both the flavors, you pick any one."

"Hmmm… I'll bake both. Bye! See you and little Liz around four."

"Bye!"

Mary placed her mobile the coffee table. Molly was a wonderful person. She was one of those few people who did good without expecting anything in return. Such people should not be left unrewarded. Mary had been contemplating about a matter for a long time, but she hadn't got the opportunity to do something about it. It was regarding her husband's best friend and Molly. Sherlock Holmes the most observant person in the universe, who could find the profession of a person by just looking at their thumb, was as good as blind when it came to the matters of the heart and emotion. He claimed to be a heartless robot, but that wasn't true, was it?

She and John were living proof of that. He cared enough to kill a man for their happiness. How couldn't he not have a heart?

Mary had her own set of observation skills. She had been an assassin after all. And all those observations pointed to the simple fact that Sherlock loved Molly Hooper, the pathologist. Whenever Molly was in the same room as Sherlock, he would follow her with his eyes or always kept her in the edge of his vision. She had heard many stories from Molly about how Sherlock would thwart all her attempts at dating. Molly thought that he did it because he wanted her assisting him in the lab, help him solve his mysteries. But Mary thought differently. Sherlock was jealous. It was the only sound reasoning, but when Sherlock was being his 'I am above all human emotions' self that angle was ignored. But not now.

"John!" she called out.

John poked his head out of the kitchen. "Yes?"

"Ever wondered what a couple Sherlock and Molly would make?" she queried.

John looked puzzled by the sudden question. But answered truthfully.

"More times than I can count. But Sherlock just kept denying anything and was always hell bent on shutting me up when I broached the topic."

 _That idiot!_  She thought.

"Don't you think it's about time we find out?"

/-/-/-/

Sherlock was in his mind palace when he heard the shriek. He and John had solved the jewel thief case, the previous night. It had taken almost two weeks to find the thief, an experienced professional who had covered his tracks neatly, but not neat enough to throw Sherlock out of his track. There had been so much information and he hadn't had the time to delete the unwanted one's yesterday. And had been engaged in the deleting process, when Mrs. Hudson being her usual self, screamed at the sight of a head in the refrigerator. She scolded him for a few minutes, before muttering to herself and going downstairs. Honestly, he never understood the fuss the people made on finding body parts in the fridge.

Molly had given him the head, as its use in teaching was over. As always, when he thought about Molly a warm feeling settled over his heart. It was a strange sensation, something new to him. It had begun to occur after the fall. He decided to just ignore it, as untangling emotions was never something he was good at.

His phone buzzed in his pajama pocket. A text from Mary.

_Molly is baking biscuits. Help her bring 'em over._

_-MW_

Hmmm… biscuits. He had always liked them. Especially the ones that Molly made. When he had been using her place as her hide-out, she had offered some with tea. They were delicious. When he had asked about it, she had told him with a laugh that it was a secret recipe.

 _Might as well find out the secret_ , he thought with a smile and got up to get dressed.

Not once did he question, why Molly would need help in carrying a small basket of biscuits or why he had chosen to wear his purple shirt (which Molly loved on him). He simply ignored it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a sunny day. Sherlock decided to walk to Molly's flat. It would do him some good to take some fresh. He had been cooped up in his flat for the whole week. The streets were abuzz with Londoners, all of them taking advantage of the sun just like him. But unlike them, he was noting and making changes to the London map in his head. The city's population was as ever on the rise, so the landscape was continuously on the change. It was of utmost importance that he had the maze of his city memorized.

He was almost two blocks from the Molly's flat when he spotted her. She was exactly fifteen feet ahead of him, trying desperately to avoid spilling the contents of the plastic bag on the street. She was wearing her trademark clothing: bright orange top that had cat pattern all over it (seriously?) and a light blue knee length skirt. He wondered how a grown woman in a respectable job could have a dressing sense that would rival a six year old.

_Yet, it is way more enticing than Irene's ever was_ , a part of his brain added. Hmmm…that was something he had to consider. Irene had only been a, what normal humans would call as a passing cloud. He was only interested in her because of her intelligence. But if he had to compared Molly to Irene, his brain came with such a long list of how Molly was so much better than Irene that he was shocked about how so much detail of Molly existed in his mind palace. That was a matter which had to be addressed.

He had easily covered the distance between them, within a few seconds.

"Hello" he said in his usual brusque manner. She was startled, and began to lose grip on her shopping bag. He rolled his eyes, before catching the bag easily before it fell.

"My God Sherlock! You almost gave me a heart attack. You should really stop sneaking upon people or I might tie a bell to your neck" she said with a smile in her voice. He was wearing her favorite purple shirt, and his unruly black curls appeared honey brown in the sunlight.

Sherlock was offended with the image of a bell being tied around his neck.

"That was hardly sneaking up Molly. You should have been able to hear me approach you" he said with a sniff.

"Not everybody has super human hearing like you do Sherlock."

He was about to retort something, but Molly cut him off.

"So, what are you doing here? For a case?" she asked as they continued in the direction of her flat.

"Nope" he popped the 'p'. "I'm to help you bring over the baked goods to the Watsons'. Mary texted me."

Molly wondered why Mary would think that she couldn't handle a small basket of biscuits. Did she appear that frail?

"Oh! But that would take a while. I just now purchased the ingredients. You'd have to wait for at least three hours."

Some part of Sherlock, which he hadn't acknowledged for many years, felt elated at the thought of spending three hours, interrupted with Molly. He wondered why he would feel that way.

"I just finished a case. I am bored already. Might as well wait in your flat." He said nonchalantly.

"Okay" she said with a shrug, but he noted that she was trying to hide a smile. And that put a smile on his face.

They climbed the stairs to her apartment in companionable silence. Toby greeted them at the door as soon as Molly opened it. He first circled her feet, before rubbing against Sherlock's legs. During the time, when he used Molly's place as a hideout Toby had grown quite fond of Sherlock. The same could be said for Sherlock. When Molly returned from work, she would find Toby sitting on Sherlock's lap purring away, instead of eagerly greeting her at the door. Traitor.

Sherlock dumped the shopping bag on the kitchen counter which he had been carrying ever since he caught it. He was gentleman in that way. Mummy would be proud, he thought wryly.

He plopped himself over the sofa, after removing his coat and scarf. Molly wondered how someone could wear them, in such warm weather.

"Coffee?" she asked from the kitchen.

"Yes", then after a slight pause "please." Molly giggled at the fact that John had somehow managed to make Sherlock add the words please and thank you to his dictionary.

He was going over her medical journal when she handed him coffee. They discussed about an article in it while they drank their drink.

"I better get started with the baking" she said and headed towards the kitchen.

"I would like to watch and maybe help" he volunteered. He had watched Molly work in the kitchen once. Just like in the morgue, she was precise and was at ease. It had been fascinating to watch (and also baking could come quite handy in a case, you might never know.)

Molly had turned around to gawk at him, but schooled her expression quickly.

"Sure" she said with a smile. "I could use some help."

"Have you ever baked before?"

"No. Never."

"Well then you watch first, then help. Ok?"

He nodded. How difficult can it be? He was going to master the art of baking, and learn the secret recipe of the biscuits. He smirked and leant against the counter, settling to watch Molly bake.

She began by preparing the batter. As she did, she began talking about her childhood. Sherlock realized that, Molly was beginning to feel comfortable around him. Usually she would stutter whenever she spoke to him, and it was always about a case or an experiment. Now he knew Molly as a person, not as an asset. The thought that she was sharing with her made that warm feeling in his heart stronger. As he listened he noticed that, a strand of her hair which she had tied into a messy bun, was falling into her eyes, and she was trying her best to push it back using her elbows. Without thinking he reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Molly's breath hitched when he came close and a she blushed a deep red. As it dawned on him what he had just done, he too blushed. They just stood there, looking at each other, before Molly recovered first and continued telling more about her hometown.

Sherlock felt deeply shaken. He was acting definitely more and more weirdly around Molly. He had to look into the matter asap.

When he was sure that he could help her, they began to make progress. It was quite fun actually. Cooking was so much like chemistry. And not before long the biscuits were put int the oven and getting baked. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Molly thought she might as well take a shower before going to the Watsons'. While she was gone, Sherlock plunged into his mind palace to get away from the thoughts of Molly.


	3. Chapter 3

John sighed happily as he sat back in his chair, reading the newspaper. Though he was content with his married life, he missed being here at 221 B. The sense of responsibility which came with marriage and children, was something that his bachelor life didn't know of.

Everything was just the same way, as it had always been. A total mess. He couldn't help but compare 221 B with the apartment he and Mary currently lived in. Their flat was not spic and span, but it had a comfortable order to it. Not like the total chaos out here which only Sherlock knew the way around.

_This place definitely needs the feminine touch_ , he thought with a smile. He and Mary would make sure it did.

He glanced at his best friend who was currently lost in his mind palace, striking his prayer pose. John found him this way, an hour ago when he had entered the flat. The flat would seem eerie, with no sounds emanating from it, even though there were two occupants. But the silence used to be a heavenly melody to John's ears after the loud 'tantrums' which Sherlock threw when he was bored.

But right now, he wanted Sherlock to listen to him. He was a man on a mission and he would accomplish it.

He and Mary were having a great time playing cupid between Molly and Sherlock. Initially when Mary told him that Sherlock fancied Molly, he was wary about it. Of course Sherlock cared but John didn't think romance was his area. But when Mary pointed out the facts and he saw evidence with his own eyes he had to believe. When Sherlock and Molly had come over with biscuits he caught them stealing glances at each other just like teenagers. John totally got it. Others would know they were in love, taking these cues. But Sherlock wouldn't even approach the matter with emotion. For all John knew, he might think he was coming down with a disease which made him want to constantly look at the pathologist.

He really wanted to shake some sense into Sherlock but that might not have the desired effect. Sherlock was essentially a scared animal in the matters of heart and he didn't want to startle him and make him withdraw. So he and Mary had come up with a plan that ought to bring those two together.

Right then, Sherlock unfroze from his stiff pose and glanced at John, no doubt figuring out what he had done and would do today. John was used to this behavior. He simply continued to read the paper.

"Tea?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, that would be good." He saw Sherlock get up to head towards the kitchen.

"I'll make it" he offered, when he realized that Mrs. Hudson won't be bringing the tea. Seriously between drugged coffee and tea with bobbing eyeballs he was not going to take chances.

Sherlock shrugged before checking his phone and laptop simultaneously. He cursed and began to pace furiously. He was sulking and pacing when John handed him his cup.

"What is it?" John asked him despite the fact that he knew the answer and was just waiting to exploit it.

"Bored" Sherlock said with a dull voice as if that explained everything.

"No cases?"

Sherlock gave him a 'don't state the obvious' look.

"Well in that case I think I might have a substitute for you. A way to keep boredom at bay." Sherlock immediately brightened at the prospect of work.

It was pure luck, or rather fate that John had come across the matter. He had gone to the station to pick up Lestrade from for their pub night when he unexpectedly met Mark there. He and Mark had gone to the university together, before Mark decided it was too much for him and had dropped out. John had never heard from him after that.

"Mark?" he had exclaimed in disbelief at the fashionably dressed man.

"John!" the main with thick French accent. "What a pleasant surprise!"

They had chatted for some time, before John asked him what he was doing down there. Mark was currently the proud owner of a posh French Restaurant (hence the accent?) which he ran along with his wife. The hotel was in the Cardiff. Apparently it had caught the interest of a Duchess, who had recently come into a handsome inheritance from her late father. She thought it was a perfect place to throw a party/ball. The Duchess had been receiving death threats from an unknown person and Mark was there to seek the help of the force for protection during the party/ball. The unsigned notes mentioned that the ball would be the last event she ever attended.

John hadn't thought much about the incident at that time, but when he recounted it later to Mary she sat up with excitement.

"John, we have been presented with a wonderful opportunity and I intend to take full advantage of it."

John had just stared blankly at her, before she explained excitedly. He had to admit, his wife was smart. Also she was beautiful, funny, kind, sweet…Right. So here he was now, trying to bait Sherlock into the plan.

He told him about his friend Mark and the threats to the Duchess. Of course it wasn't more than a three for Sherlock, but the dry spell in mysteries was enough to make Sherlock grudgingly accept the case.

"So what's the plan?" John asked.

"We will go as guests, I'll do some investigation and ta-da we will catch the villain."

John shook his head. "I cannot go with you buddy. Mary and I have a parenting class and she will have my head on a platter if I ditch her this time also."

Surprisingly Sherlock didn't argue with him. Nobody messes with an angry Mary. Sherlock knew that personally.

"Then I will go in disguise as a server."

_Oh! No you won't_. They discussed all possible ways Sherlock would respond, and John was ready.

"I'm not sure about that Sherlock. Don't you think that going to the ball as a guest would be more advantageous? It would be really odd for a server to chat with all important people."

"Hmmm….You've got a point there. Well done John. Clearly my skills seem to have rubbed on you." John rolled his eyes.

"But the event is a ball, and I would require a date, which I don't have and can't hire at such a short notice."

It was time for John to do his part. He said with a casual tone "Maybe Molly can help."

Sherlock stiffened at the suggestion. John didn't say anything else, just letting the idea sink in. A full minute had passed before Sherlock responded.

"Yes, Molly would help." Then in a quieter voice with a smile "She will go as my date."

John made his excuses and left 221B grinning triumphantly from ear to ear. Leaving behind a suddenly nervous consulting detective.

/-/-/-/

Molly was hidden behind a mountain of paper work on her desk, when she heard her Office room open. She had locked the door behind her, so there was only person who could open the high tech modern lock, the hospital had provided her with. It was Sherlock Holmes, the lock picker. Ha-ha!

She glanced up, from the file she was currently signing to briefly smile at him and returned back to it. But not brief enough to miss his wind tousled hair, his sharp cheek bones and his beautiful form.

_Get a hold on yourself_! She chided her brain.

After years of pinning after Sherlock, she had gradually accepted the fact that he could only offer his friendship, and she would take that gladly. Though she loved him, the friendship phase worked and she got to know him better. She barely stuttered around him.

But in the past few weeks, she sensed an invisible tension between them. The one that came with the changing of relationships. She was positive that it was her own imagination that came with long sleepless nights. Yes, that must be it.

While she had been rambling mentally, Sherlock just stood there going over the file which she had recently completed. He seemed to be building up courage to ask something. If he was going to badger her again about taking home a whole body, she was going to give him an earful.

He cleared his throat, so she looked up at him with an expectant expression.

"Yes?"

"Molly, will you go out on a date with me?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Molly will you go on a date with me?"

It was probably a good thing that she was sitting, else the shock would have knocked her knees below her. If he had asked this a few years ago, she would have blushed profusely, stuttered and maybe(no definetly) fainted. But things had changed, she knew Sherlock better now. Now she just rolled her eyes, for she had now figured out his motive.

"Definetly." She said and dimpled at him. "What's the case?" she asked.

Sherlock sighed partly in relief and partly in dissapointment that she didn't think it was an actual date.  _Wait what?_ Where did that come from? He mentally shook himself and gave a brief run down of the case. Molly frowned with concern as he explained. She was always like that, worrying about the well being of the client.

_Sentiment._

"When is the party?"

"It's this Friday in Cardiff. Dress code is formal. I'll have Mycroft clear off your schedule." he said with a smirk. He enjoyed making Mycroft do such trivial things for him.

"You better do that. I don't want to be drowned by paperwork this weekend."

Sherlock gave a nod to show that he understood. He then bid a reluctant (only because he liked the lab) good bye and left the morgue.

Molly watched him leave. When she was sure he was gone, she allowed herself the feelings which she had denied herself in his presence. Hope and happiness. Though she had acted cool when he had asked her to be his date, inside she was whooping in joy. Yeah sure, it was just for a case. It was not a real date, all would be act. But it won't be a act on her part. She still loved Sherlock deeply and just being in his presence was enough for her. She had something to look forward to this Friday. With a smile she resumed doing her paperwork.

/-/-/-/

Mary was trying her best to maintain a neutral expression, when all she wanted to do was smile from ear to ear. Their plan had worked brilliantly. She had had no doubts about succeding. One mention of Molly and she knew Sherlock would defineltly take up the case. This should be enough proof, for anbody that he was in love. Sadly it was not enough for the world's only consulting detective.

But fear not, she would see to it that he acknowledge what was right in front of his eyes.

Currently, she was listening to Molly explain about the case. Molly visited her almost every other day. Mary was now eight months pregnant, and couldn't move around much. So instead of their usual girls night out they just spent sometime gossiping at Mary's.

"The event is on Friday." Molly was saying.

Mary could see that Molly was excited. Good. It was a sign that she still had strong feelings for Sherlock.

"What are you planning to wear?"

"I don't know. It's a formal event. Maybe I'll buy something tommorow when I get back from work."

_Oh no!_ Mary thought. Despite her intelligence, Molly had a very questionable fashion sense at the least. She usually wore clothes twice her usual size that didn't flatter and show off her petite form. She decided to jump in.

"Molly I know a friend who is a personal shopper. I'll get an appointment for you. She will help you get ready for the event."

"Don't you think personal shopper is a bit too much? Don't bother yourself Mary. I've got this. " Molly said.

"Molly, you would be undercover as the guests of the Duchess. Believe me when I tell you that all the high class ladies will be pampered by the leading beauticians. You need to look the part. A perosnal shopper is the least of the requirements."

Mary knew perfectly well that Molly couldn't refuse her suggestion, if she put it like that. If it was for a case she had to agree.

"You're right Mary. Get that appointment."

/-/-/-/

_This palce is huge_ , that was Molly's first thought when she entered into the dress botique along with her personal shopper, Chrissa.

Mary had been true to her word and had got her Chrissa's appointment. Molly had gone to Chrissa's office after work to meet her. Chrissa had the figure of a super model and dressed like one too. Molly had expected her to be indifferent towards her,typical behaviour of extremely good looking women, but she was wrong. Except for the fact that she made a face at the dress she had been wearing, a bird patterened pale green top with khakis, she had been very friendly. They had set out immediately to go shopping and that is how Molly found herself in this palce.

The shop had an extremely French sound to it that she couldn't even pronounce it. Upon entering, Chrissa immediately went to a row of racks, stacked with glittery dresses. Molly had no choice but to follow her. Chrissa gave her a once over, before picking dresses from the rack and handing them to her. Molly examined the price tag which made her heart go weak. A single dress cost almost her entire month salary. She was about to voice her concerns to Chrissa when she said "What are you waiting for? Go try them!" She shooed Molly towards the trial rooms, before she could protest. All the dresses were too pretty that Molly was afraid that she might soil them by wearing. Despite her fears she decided to give it a try. The dresses were so beautiful themselves that they would make anybody look good when worn.

She had to say, the dresses made her look great. Chrissa 'oooh'ed and 'aaah'ed at every dress but finally decided on a deep blue low neck dress. It was made of a soft velvet like fabric that clung to her. It came down till her knees and shimmered when she moved. Molly loved it. Chrissa took a picture of her in the dress and sent it to Mary, who wished to accompany them but couldn't. Then they purchased the dress which blowed a small hole in her bank balance, but Molly didn't mind. She rarely allowed herself such pleasures.

/-/-/-/-/

Mary looked at the picture she had just received from Chrissa. Sherlock was going to have a hard time solving the case, since it would be the last thing on his mind.

/-/-/-/-/

It was Friday. Finally. The case was pretty simple, he would solve within a minute as soon as he met the guests. He hated the waiting game. Action was what he wanted.

_You want Molly also_ , the now very active voice in his head said. Sherlock just ignored it. That part of had been extremely excited at the prospect of a date(albeit a fake one) with Molly. Sentiment was seeping into the cracks of the walls he had constructed around his heart. Not good.

He could think about it later, right now he had to get ready. He walked upto his closet and threw the doors open. He contemplated on what he should wear. He had to allow that this behaviour was unusual. He never indulged in such trivial choices but he had this unshakable feeling to choose properly. Only once had he done this before, when he and John had gone to meet Irene for the first time. But that had been different, hadn't it? It had been a necessity to lure Irene, the same way she had dressed (or rather not dressed) to try to lure him. Now, he wanted to impress Molly though he couldn't fathom why. He decided to just go with it and continued to contemplate. After going over the pros and cons of every item, he decided on a white suit with black pants.

He was in the process of wearing his jacket, when he heard a knock on the front door.

Mycroft, he thought with a sneer. He had this precise way of knocking that grated on his nerves. Sherlock continued to button up his jacket when Mycroft walked into the flat.

"Hello brother dear." Mycroft said as he looked around the flat in disdain.

"What do you want Mycroft?"

"Can't a brother visit simply?"

"No. I am busy right now, please see yourself out." Sherlock didn't even glance in Mycroft's direction.

"Oh! I can see that you are quite busy. Going to the ball with the pathologist. I didn't think you were the one for socialising ,Sherlock."

"I am not! It is for a case."

"Yes, I'm sure." Mycroft said with a smile in his voice.

"What?" that tone had caught Sherlock's attention. He glared at Mycroft.

"Oh! It's nothing. I just came by to tell you to not crash the party. The Duchess is a benefactor to the crown."

"And?" Sherlock asked. "You wouldn't have come all the way to just tell me this."

"I assure you Sherlock there is nothing more." Mycroft said as he looked at his brother. Hmmm… actually he had come to see why his brother was even bothering to take this case, it was hardly difficult. Now that he saw him all dressed up, his suspicions were confirmed. Sherlock had feelings for the pathologist. Despite his talks about alone protecting him, he had fallen for the pathologist. Sherock had always been like that. He craved company, but wouldn't allow himself to indulge for fear that those he loved would leave him. The episode with Redbeard had left deep scars in him. Atleast Mummy would be happy that Sherlock finally 'found someone', and stop pestering him as her focus will shift to Sherlock. Ha!

Sherlock gave him a suspicious look trying to decipher his intents. Mycroft decided to take his leave.

"Well I have other matters to attend to. Good day brother dear."

"Try not to start a war Mycroft. You know what it does to the traffic."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and left the flat. Once outside he immediately picked up his phone with an evil smirk to call mummy.

/-/-/-/-/

Sherlock stared at Molly's front door. He had been doing this for the last twenty minutes. Some how he couldn't summon his hands to knock on Molly's door. It was ridiculous. He had been to her flat many times, but right now he was feeling…. What was the word? Nervous, yes he was feeling nervous.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Molly shouted from within. Upon hearing her voice he had the absurd urge to flee, but he held his ground.

_This is just Molly for god's sake!_

The door opened to reveal Molly and all sane thoughts vanished from his mind. She was wearing a deep blue sleeveless dress(purchased recently) that came down till her knees while clinging to her form and black pumps that made her legs look longer that usual. She had curled her hair and left it untied. She had worn minimal makeup and lip gloss. Molly blushed as he took in her sight open mouthed. When he realised that he was openly staring, he cleared his throat.

"You look good" he said gruffly looking down at his feet.

Molly beamed at him.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She said making his ears turn pink.

He looked too good to be true in his white suit. The shirt was as usual tight, revealing his quite muscular form. His curls contrasted fantastically with his suit.

"Let's go." Sherlock said and together they made their way to the car, a black Jaguar(Oh my god!) Sherlock had hired. Molly was surprised when Sherlock headed to the driver's side. She looked at him questioningly.

"Don't look so surprised Molly. I can drive, I just prefer not too."

Molly smiled and got into the car along with Sherlock. The car purred into life under his touch and they sped towards Cardiff, each trying to stop staring at the other.


	5. Chapter 5

The drive to Cardiff took two hours. It was the best two hours of Molly's life.

After the initial awkwardness, a comfortable silence settled over them. Sherlock drove surprisingly well for someone who rarely took anything but a cab. Summer was approaching and she saw the sky turn a peachy orange, before the sun made way for the moon. It was a beautiful night, full of stars. They didn't speak much, but Molly would sometimes feel his eyes on her. When she would look up, his eyes would be on the road.

They arrived at the hotel, just when the other guests were arriving. Molly was not a huge fan of parties. At uni, her friends would force her to go along with them to parties. She would just sit in a corner, nurse a beer and look at the people around her. She was pretty sure that was what she would do today.

The hotel was a huge building. It looked like it had been recently renovated, but it still maintained its past. The architecture was beautiful, with huge pillars supporting the structure. Sherlock handed the valet the car keys, who smiled hugely at the opportunity of parking the sleek car.

Once inside the building, Molly was mind blown.

_Is this a dream?_  She thought pinching her arm to make sure it was real. It elicited a weird look from Sherlock.

"How much money did the Duchess inherit?" Molly asked to Sherlock in shock.

"Quite a lot." He said with amusement at the look on her face.

There was a golden glow everywhere one looked, as if the entire place was made of gold. Beautiful statues were strewn around the room. Scarlet drapes hung from the ceiling to the wall. The place looked right out of the medieval era. The decorations would have cost quite a fortune.

"Her father, Sir George held a key position at the Queen's court and took advantage of it" he explained looking around. But unlike her, he was looking around for possible suspects by deducing everyone he looked at.

The ball was yet to begin, but already the guests began filling in. Molly had thought her dress was a bit over the top earlier, but now looking at the other women who wore gowns (seriously? Did people even make them?) she was beginning to think that she was underdressed. Sherlock probably could read her mind as he said "You look beautiful Molly. Stop fretting." Molly's heart soared at that and she immediately relaxed. They were standing near the entrance to the ball room when John's friend Mark came to meet them.

"You must be Mr. Holmes" he said reaching out his hand towards Sherlock for a handshake. As usual Sherlock just stared at him, so Molly jumped in.

"Hello! I'm Molly Hooper" she said taking his outstretched arm. "I am assisting Sherlock in the case."

"Oh! Thank you for joining us. It is a terrible business I must say, this threatening" he said in a nervous tone. "If something bad happens, then the press will be upon us and we will never have customers" he wailed.

"Don't you worry Mark" she said in a soothing tone. "We will catch the culprit before any ill transpires."

Mark seemed to trust her words, for his tense shoulders under his ridiculously fancy jacket relaxed and he exhaled slowly.

"I better go then, have a lot to do" he said and hurried towards the main entrance.

"We have to do something about your social skills Sherlock. Someday you are going to be punched in your face."

"I think John already took care of it" he said with a wry smile.

Molly laughed.

Just then the Duchess entered the room, accompanied by her husband. She was in her late forties and was wearing a dark green evening gown. Her husband was a tall bald man, who wore a dark green suit to match his wife's dress. They both walked hand in hand to the claps from the guests present. Sherlock and Molly joined in the clapping, which was received with smiles from the couple.

"Let's go" Sherlock said.

They were going undercover as a young couple, who were friends with the Duchess. Sherlock would be Benedict and she would be Eleanor. She liked their names, they were graceful. Mostly they would just be looking out for suspicious behavior among the people, but if anybody wanted to chat with them they would have to use their false names. They made their way to the very back of the room so that Sherlock could have a good view at everyone. He was in a deduction spree, muttering details about all the guests. Molly like always was fascinated by this. The workings of his brain would forever remain a mystery to her. She saw what he saw, heard what he heard. Yet she could never deduce any detail about the person. Whereas he could tell everything about the person right down to their bedside habit. And now that he was in his element he was simply too beautiful. All she could do was stare at him. Suddenly Sherlock looked in her direction. Their eyes met for a moment. She flushed at being caught staring at him, and lowered her head to avoid his enquiring gaze.

Now that the hosts were in the room, the party was in full swing. Guests began to congratulate the Duchess and some just chattered among themselves. Waiters began to serve champagne and other starters. Molly took a glass from a passing waiter to calm herself.

Sherlock was doing something with his phone, probably looking for information based on his deduction when an elderly couple made their way towards them.

"Hello dears! Are you from out of town? We certainly haven't seen you folks around here" the husband asked them.

Sherlock's entire demeanor changed immediately. He smiled warmly at them and said "Yes, we are from out of town. Heathrow, actually."

"We've always wanted to go there, isn't that right Henry?" the lady asked her husband.

"Yes,honey. Oh! Sorry we are being rude. I am Henry Carter and this is my wife Margaret Carter" he said with an affectionate smile at his wife.

Molly's entire thought process died down when she felt Sherlock's hand at her waist.

"I am Benedict and this is my Eleanor."

Molly blushed a deep red (the same shade as the draping on the walls) at his words.  _It's not real, It's not real_ she chanted to herself. Yet she couldn't stop the effect his behavior was having on her.

The couple chatted a bit more until the orchestra began to play, all the while Sherlock hadn't removed his hand.

The guests began to dance with their partners. Henry and Margaret looked at each other before offering his arm to wife. They headed towards the dance floor but stopped suddenly.

"Aren't you folks dancing?" Margaret asked.

_Who me? Dance?_  She thought. Molly was one of those people who couldn't dance to save their lives. Or dance only when there was enough alcohol in her system. Like the time during John's wedding, where she had drunk herself silly to stop being jealous of the bridesmaid. Also they were yet to find the culprit.

She was about to open her mouth to make an excuse when Sherlock began to lead her to the dance floor. The elderly couple grinned at them, before leaving.

"Sherlock!" she hissed. "I cannot dance at all."

"I know. This is just a simple waltz. Just follow my lead."

He placed one of his hand on her waist and took her hand in another. She had seen enough waltzing to know that she had to place her other hand on his shoulder (which were quite muscular, but no need to think of that right now.) Then they began to sway to the music.

She was sure this was going to be a disaster. First of all, she had difficulties in breathing, with him being so close. Second, her knees were beginning to feel weak at such prolonged exposure to his touch. But she let all the worries take a back seat. Right now he was holding her, which was enough for her. So, she began to relax. She looked around her to see people dancing and laughing. It was hard to think that someone lurked around to spoil all this happiness.

Maybe Sherlock thought that he had had enough of waltzing because he began to actually dance. Molly normally wouldn't have been able to keep up. But Sherlock was a perfect lead. They waltzed gracefully and others stopped too look at them.

Sherlock smiled down at her. He looked so handsome when he smiled genuinely. She wish he did that more often. Suddenly his expression became serious and he pulled her closer to him and he began to lean down towards her. Molly's breathing hitched.

Just when their lips almost met, there was a sudden commotion. They jumped apart, both blushing to their roots.

Molly shook her head to clear it and looked in the direction of commotion and saw the police taking a woman into custody. The lady must have been in her early forties or late thirties. She was screaming in rage at the police and at the Duchess. Molly couldn't hear her from this far.

She looked at Sherlock with a confused look, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Sherlock what's happening?" she asked him.

He looked at the screaming woman and said "Obviously, they are arresting the lady."

She huffed. "Yes I can see that, but why?"

"For threatening the Duchess with murder." He said in a clipped tone.

Okay, she was now officially not following. They were here to find the person who was threatening the Duchess and here the police were arresting a woman who Sherlock said was the culprit.

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at her.

"That woman is the daughter of Sir George, but born to his second wife who nobody knew about expect him. Rosaline, that's her name, wanted revenge for not being acknowledged as an heir by her father. She thinks that the Duchess had a hand in this, hence the threatening."

"You solved the case?" she asked in amazement.

"Long before." He said with a smirk.

She furrowed her eyebrows. If he had solved the case way before why were they still here? She asked as much to him.

He pulled her towards him once more, before leaning to her ear and whispering "Is it so hard to fathom that I wanted a date with you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Molly smiled widely as she performed the autopsy. Oh no! That came out wrong. She smiled widely as she thought of the last few weeks in her life, while performing the last autopsy of her shift.

The case in Cardiff had been the instrumental in bringing to light what had been hidden for quite some time. Sherlock Holme's love towards Molly Hooper. Molly had been very curious about his sudden admission, though she wasn't complaining. On the drive back home she had asked him about it.

He was quiet for a moment. The sceneries rushing passed them in a blur and morphing to buildings as they entered the city limit. His handsome face glinting against the pale moonlight.

"I don't really know from when I began to see you as more than a friend, Molly. I cannot seem to pinpoint an exact moment, which is quite odd for me." He said with slight frown.

"However the more time I spent with you, the more reluctant I was to part with your company." He continued. "I have been trying to hide from my emotions all my life. But the fall has changed me, though I will deny it vehemently if anybody asked me. I no longer want to run away from the feelings I have for you Molly."

Molly's eyes glistened as she heard Sherlock say the words which she had dreamt of hearing for the past seven years.

"Why are you crying?" Sherlock asked worry coloring his voice. "Am I too late? Have you moved on?"

Molly smiled at his worried face.

"No silly, these are happy tears." His face immediately broke into a grin as she wiped the tears that had stained her cheek. Molly had the sudden strong urge to kiss him, but resisted. They had all the time in the world and she really didn't want to cause an accident. Sherlock seemed to have similar thoughts. She settled for leaning her head against his shoulders. She looked up at him and saw his cheeks upturned with a smile. They had spent the rest of drive in silence, both content and peaceful for the first time in many years.

When she told Mary about the previous day's events over the phone, Mary had screamed so loudly in joy that Molly was sure her eardrums would have burst if she hadn't moved the phone away from her ear.

"Finally!" she exulted. "I am so happy for you Molly. Wait till John hears about our success."

"What do you mean our success?" Molly had asked confused.

"Um… I said your success Molly. Anyway got to go. Have my parenting class now." She had said and cut the call. Molly had frowned at the phone, but let it go.

Sherlock and Molly had spent the days after that going on dates or spending their time at each other's flat almost every other day. She was in an excellent mood because of that all the time.

Molly was bought out of her reverie when she heard the morgue doors burst open. It was Sherlock, entering like always with a dramatic flair.

"Hey!" she said with a shy smile. She was still in the process of accepting the fact that Sherlock wanted her, that they were together and all this was not a dream.

"Hello! Molly. Are you done?" he asked as he came over to see the body she was examining.

"Almost, just need to weigh the heart and then I'm ready to go."

They had planned to go out for a lunch date in a nearby restaurant.

"Molly, can I have that liver?" he asked in his most charming tone.

Molly rolled her eyes. "No Sherlock."

"But I want to study the effects of a particular poison on the liver cells." He was whining now.

"What about the eyeballs I gave you last week?" she asked with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I keep dropping them into my tea." He complained.

Molly giggled. He was impossible.

"Fine, but I can't give you this one. They are using one for teaching purposes currently. I'll get it for you as soon they are done with it."

He nodded with a smirk and went to sit in front of his favorite microscope and observe some slides. They worked in silence.

"I'm done." Molly said as she signed the autopsy report. She went to her office to retrieve her coat and joined Sherlock. Together they headed out of the hospital. The sun was bright in the sky and a breeze was blowing. The restaurant was just a few blocks away and they decided to take a walk. As usual the sidewalk was filled with people headed towards their destinations.

As they walked their hands brushed against each other. Molly blushed prettily when Sherlock took her hand into his. Though he didn't like physical contact, Molly was an exception. He liked holding her hands, though he wouldn't admit it to her. Just like Molly he was also trying to get used to the idea that they were finally in a relationship.

Usually he would walk at a fast pace, but today he was relaxed and it saved Molly from almost breaking into a run to catch up with him. The restaurant was on the opposite side of the street and they had to wait for the signal to cross the road. Just when the pedestrian light turned green, a black car appeared out of nowhere and blocked their path.

Molly frowned in confusion as the driver (wearing a suit and a headset?) came out, opened the back door and motioned for them to get in. Sherlock stiffened and cursed beside her. Just then his began to ring.

"Mycroft" he said into the phone in an irritated tone, looking at the nearest security camera.

Molly didn't know what Mycroft told him, but Sherlock's ears turned pink as he glanced down at their interlocked fingers. He took a deep breath and said "I'm not getting into the car, Mycroft." He again listened to what Mycroft had to say and his shoulders slumped. "Fine" he spit out and shoved his phone into his coat pocket.

"Get in the car, Molly" he said. Molly really wanted to know what was happening but she got into the car anyway hoping that Sherlock will explain later, as he was currently calling Mycroft names. The interior of the car was fantastic with plush seats in rich brown color. The windows were tinted black and were probably bullet proof and there was a privacy panel also. Cool. Once they were settled in, the car began to weave itself out of the traffic. Sherlock was still fuming, so decided to give him some time to calm down. The car had removed itself from the downtown traffic and was heading out of town. She couldn't control her curiosity anymore.

"Where are we going Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked like he wanted to avoid the question but thought better of it. He sighed and once again took her hand into his.

"We are going to see my parents." He said as he played with her fingers. "Apparently they can't wait to meet you and were troubling me over the phone to bring you over. I have been trying to avoid their calls since then. So, when that didn't seem to work Mycroft decided to interfere. That prick."

Molly didn't listen to Sherlock after he uttered the words 'parents' because she was going into a full blown panic attack. Sherlock seemed to realize that she was having a hard time breathing and pulled her closer.

"Molly what's wrong?" he asked in a worried tone.

"Oh my god! We are going to meet your parents?"

"Yes, Molly. Didn't you hear me?"

Molly felt like strangling him. Didn't he understand that meeting his parents would be a huge step? What if they didn't like her? She knew from John that Sherlock's parents were surprisingly quite normal. But still.

"Sherlock, what if they don't like me?" she asked her eyes wide with panic.

"Seriously Molly? Is that why you are concerned?" he asked incredulously.

She gulped and nodded.

"Don't worry. Of course they will like you. What's there to not like about you?" he asked with a wink.

"Then why didn't you want them to meet me?" she asked in a small voice, lowering her head.

Sherlock pulled up her lowered chin to make her meet his eyes.

"Molly, my parents are very normal not at all like me or my brother. They will definitely fuss over you and I have no doubt that you will also like them. But I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable since we have been together only for a few weeks." He explained.

Molly smiled widely as she got the true meaning of her words. He wanted her. It was not that he didn't want her to meet them. He was just worried about her feelings. She leaned in to kiss him deeply. When she pulled back they were both breathless, but the tension between was gone. Through the rest of the journey Molly asked him questions about his parents and childhood. He wasn't very forthcoming about the latter.

About half an hour later, the car parked in front of a very elegant town house. The house was beautiful. They got out the car and made their way across the lawn to reach the front door. She took a deep breath as Sherlock rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately to reveal a grey haired couple.

"Sherlock!" his mother exclaimed with a smile. "Mummy" Sherlock nodded his head in her direction. She smiled even more widely on seeing Molly. She came forward to engulf her in a hug. Molly hugged her back. "You must be Molly. We have been waiting so long to meet you." She said as she motioned for them to come inside and continued to chatter. His father was a very charming man and just as Sherlock predicted Molly liked them instantly. He shot her an 'I told you so look' and flopped onto the sofa in the drawing room.

His parents went into the kitchen to get the tea. When she offered to help, they just shooed her away telling her that it was no problem at all. So she wandered back to the drawing spied a framed photo above the fireplace. It was of two small boys. The youngest was wearing a hat with a skull symbol and an eye-patch, the elder was eating a cake. Mrs. Holmes, who had come in with a tray of biscuits and tea, saw what she was looking and said "Oh! That photo is from when Sherlock was four years old." Molly went to take a closer look. He looked so adorable with his black curls falling into his eyes. Mycroft's face was smeared with pink frosting.

"Come on dear. I'll show you more pictures." she said. Molly giggled and nodded, happy at the prospect of seeing more of his childhood photos.

Sherlock groaned in the background. Maybe bringing Molly to his parents' was not a good idea after all.


End file.
